A Lesson in Healing
by Winter22
Summary: Two years before Revenge of the Sith, Anakin Skywalker is injured on Alderaan in a crash. Sothora Filiq nurtures him back to health, and gets to know the Jedi who fell into her life. They become close, but...at what cost? (One-shot, and a bit of a slow-burn.)


**Author's Note: **Hello all! I love a good one-shot, short story….and I do love me some Anakin Skywalker. So I had an idea one day for an original female character who encounters Skywalker, circa the Clone Wars timeframe, a few years before Revenge of the Sith occurs. I wrote this as though Padme, as much as I love her, is not in the picture. So keep this in mind.

The idea I toyed with was this: what if something happened in Anakin's life that would shake him permanently, and when he became Vader, contributed to his anger towards the planet Alderaan? We all know Vader's memories as Anakin haunted him. This is my fictional take on one of those very memories; something that may have happened to Anakin, that would ultimately contribute to Vader's decision to destroy Alderaan in _A New Hope._

I hope you enjoy! Thank you for all the support.

* * *

**Sothora Filiq: Human Female. **

**Planet: Alderaan **

**Time Period: Clone Wars, two years before RotS.**

Sothora pinned back her mousy brown hair into its usual mess of a bun, wiping back the stray pieces that forever plagued her eyesight as she worked. It was getting warm already for so early in the morning; a true sign of the impending summer season on Alderaan. Soon, spring would fade, and with it Sothora's favorite season. Spring was where she lost herself to the flora of her home planet; the endless amount of flowering herbs and plants from which she harvested her medicinal potions for the year never let ceased to amaze her.

And while many would find her daily routine monotonous, Sothora reveled in it. Every morning was the same: at daybreak, she set out from her private home on the dirt path where she found herself currently. She wandered the forest at varying distances, head turned downward, eyes scanning the greenery at her feet. This morning, she was in search of a particular late-spring blooming flower useful in tending to stomach illnesses. So far, she wasn't having much luck.

She arrived at a spot where the rising sun filtered through the canopies, warming a boulder to the touch. Here, she took a small break. She removed the apron about her waist, using it as a temporary rag to dab at the sweat forming on her forehead. Yes, today would prove to be quite warm. Perhaps an early summer season wouldn't be so bad for Alderaan, after the rough winter they had just escaped.

Sothora smiled up at the sun, taking in the radiant shades of green and yellow before her as the light grew stronger and brighter. In doing so, she allowed her mind to wander. In no time, she was lost to the wonder of the landscape around her.

That was, until, a faint rumble in the distance grew to a shuddering vibration above her.

Alarmed by the growing sound and feel of the earth trembling beneath her, Sothora stood. She turned her gazed upward to try to gain a sense of where the sound was coming from. As the sound grew ever-louder, the rumbling shook the trees around her. Soon enough, the form of a small fighter craft blew through the canopy above her. A steady stream of dark smoke billowed behind it as it spiraled dangerously out of sight. A short moment later, Sothora heard the distinct sound of the ship crashing through the trees before silence took the forest once more.

Wasting no time, Sothora took off through the trees, leaving her pack and her apron behind. The ship couldn't have landed very far away, and if there was a chance Sothora could help the pilot, she would. She picked up her pace, running towards the large bloom of smoke that steadily became more visible. She carefully wound her way through the broken trunks and shattered boulders the ship had taken out on its way downward, emerging into the clearing the ship had made on impact.

"Hello!" she called, feeling as though her voice was too meek to be heard by anyone but the birds. "Is anyone here!? Hello?"

She could tell the craft sustained a fair amount of damage. It wasn't a large ship by any means, but it had the classic style of a starfighter. A distinct, broad yellow stripe had been painted down the middle of the body, as well as an Aurebesh phrase on the side. Given the damage the ship sustained, it wasn't clear whether it was a name of someone or some place as half the letters had been scraped off on impact.

The hatch to the ship was open as well, which sent a ripple of fear up Sothora's spine. "Hello?" she repeated, waving the smoke away from her eyes as she came closer. The acrid scent of burnt oil filled her lungs and eyes, causing her to erupt in a fit of coughs. She crouched to the ground, which helped her breathing and her vision somewhat, and she began her search.

Staying out of the wafting smoke, Sothora made her way around the perimeter of the ship, searching for the pilot or any sign that anyone had survived. Only when she saw the telltale markings of someone who had crawled through the dirt did she find he pilot. He was leaning back against a tree trunk, eyes closed, a limp hand draped across his stomach. Sothora jogged to him, witnessing him up close for the first time.

_He's taken a beating, alright, _she thought as she knelt next to him. Thankfully, he was breathing, which calmed her nerves. He had light brown wavy hair that fell nearly to his shoulders, and a broad, handsome face that was covered in dirt and soot from the landing. A strong jaw curved down to a strong neck that was now covered with angry scrapes, though nothing appeared too deep. What caught Sothora's attention most was the rather distinct vertical scar adorning his right eye. At first, she thought it was a fresh cut like the others, but looking more closely, Sothora could see it was an old scar.

"Are you okay? Can you hear me?" Sothora asked. "Can you understand me?"

His eyelids fluttered but didn't open.

With a frown, Sothora quickly scanned his body, taking stock of the blood stains at his stomach where his hand rested. Aside from the scrapes and cuts, this appeared to be his worst injury. It would need tending to, and quickly. He seemed young, which would help. How old though, she couldn't tell. Early 20s, perhaps? His body was that of someone with combat training, that much was very obvious. The muscles of his arms were strong and well shaped, Sothora noted, doing her best not to flush at the thought.

His clothing was most peculiar: he wore a robe-like tunic, loose breeches and tall boots, and armored plating protecting his broad shoulders and forearms. Everything was plain, no distinct markings anywhere, but the plating had been through the ringer.

The man before her was a soldier of some kind, and in Sothora's experience, the only type of human soldier who dressed like _this _was...

Slowly, she lowered her eyes to his waist where his arm was.

_Oh, come on. _

_Surely, he can't be?_

_But if he is..._

She had to look. She had to.

Gently, with as much care as possible, Sothora lifted the soldier's arm so his utility belt was visible.

Her breath was caught in her throat when she saw it.

_He IS a Jedi. _

_That...that's a lightsaber._

_A real lightsaber._

Shocked at the revelation, Sothora dropped the young man's arm with a start, which jolted the man awake.

The most brilliant blue eyes looked up at her.

Sothora stood frozen. Whether it was from the intensity of color in those eyes, or the fear that she'd hurt him by dropping his arm on his injured stomach, she wasn't yet sure. "I'm sorry..." It came out as a squeaky whisper.

Groggily, the man looked from her to the ship beyond. When he saw it, he exhaled a pained grunt. "My ship..." He closed his eyes once more and leaned his head back against the tree. "Obi-Wan's going to kill me."

Sothora blinked._ Is he really worried about his ship right now?_

_Not now, Thora. He needs your help._

Her mind flashed back to her sack she'd left behind.

_You fool! You should have brought it with you!_

Angry with herself for leaving her medicines behind, she let out a little puff of frustration and pushed back her hair once more. First thing's first: she needed the man to stand.

"My name is Sothora" she said, closing in on the man. She glanced once more down at the weapon at his hip. "I'm going to help you. Can you stand?"

Again, those blue eyes looked at her, stopping the air in her lungs for a split second. They were kind eyes, but they possessed a soldier's caution.

"Are you under Bail's command?"

"No" she answered, not immediately understanding. "I'm not under anyone's command. I saw your ship crash while I was walking in the forest."

He glanced away, blinking hard as if to clear his sight. "Where's R2?"

Sothora's brow wrinkled. "Who?"

Without warning, the man tried to push himself upright and Sothora caught him when he faltered. "Slow!" she told him, steadying him as best she could. For how lean he was, his weight was substantial. "Take it slow. You've lost a lot of blood-"

"-I'm fine."

He tried to take a step. Again, Sothora had to hold on to him so he wouldn't topple over.

"Okay, maybe I'm not fine" he conceded, a tiny smirk playing over his lips.

Sothora held onto his hands as he found his balance, using the tree for help as he tried to stand to his full height. She could see the stomach injury leaking fresh blood onto his tunic, and quickly pressed her hand to the wound. "Tell me if this is too much pressure."

He swallowed a grimace, but shook his head. "It's fine."

"Do you feel strong enough to walk?"

"I think so."

"My home isn't far from here" she told him. "We'll head there. Take it one step at a time. Go as slow as you need."

His height, even hunched over as he was, was enough that he had several inches on her. Still, she allowed him to lean against her despite her smaller stature; whatever helped him to walk as painlessly as possible.

As they took the first few steps together, the man glanced at her. "Name's Anakin, by the way."

Sothora met his gaze and was slightly taken aback by the boyish charm within that smile. "Nice to meet you, Anakin." He took another step, and she made sure to keep pressure on his stomach. "I'm going to get you fixed up in no time."

He gave a singular nod, then refocused his attention on the forest floor before them. Sothora kept her hand pressed to the wound on his stomach, and one step at a time, they made their way through the forest and back to her home.

* * *

The house wasn't much, but it was hers, and Sothora prized that fact as much as anything in her life. It was small but comfortable, complete with a tiny fireplace that warmed the entire open floor plan of her cottage. Long rows of herbs hung above the mantle drying, while potted plants of every genus covered whatever open surface was available.

One such surface was a wooden bench, which Sothora quickly pushed aside as she led Anakin through the front door. She nudged aside another small table covered in pots, making room as Anakin lumbered towards her bed. As gracefully as she could, she helped him lie down, though he sank with the heavy weight of his body less gently than she would have liked.

The next task was to remove his bloodied tunic without hurting him. Ultimately, her fear was that his wound had begun to clot and would stick to the tunic fibers, making for a painful removal...but luck was on her side. The tunic came off with no issue.

_That _was when she discovered the Jedi had a prosthetic arm. Anakin had momentarily removed the buckled cuff that covered his forearm, allowing Sothora to fully remove the tunic. She stared at it but said nothing; working around the metal while wondering what horrible occurrence happened to give the young man such a large prosthetic. Just as quickly as Anakin removed the cuff, he placed it back on. Not a word was said about it.

While she worked, Anakin remained quiet but alert. He'd been silent for most of the walk there, barely uttering a word although a few times Sothora caught him stifling a moan. She didn't force him to talk; if talking hurt, she didn't dare push it. Whatever questions she had could wait.

Next came his utility belt. She hesitated, hands hovering above the leather around his waist. "May I?"

Anakin agreed without question.

Sothora removed the belt, surprised by the weight of it. With utmost care, she placed it, along with the lightsaber, on a nearby table.

For a moment, Sothora stood next to Anakin and simply stared at him. Disrobed from the waist-up, she finally got a clear view of the soldier she guessed Anakin was. Even without the evidence of a lightsaber, there was no question the man on her bed was a skilled fighter. The lines of his forearms hinted at swordsmanship, while the prominence of his shoulders and chest spoke of refined athleticism. She couldn't see his legs, but a small part of her wished she could. Not that the finely rippled pane of his abdomen wasn't distracting enough.

She let out a shaky sigh.

_Oh come now, Thora. Honestly. The man is injured._

Yes, he was, and she had work to do. She could stare later.

At the far end of her cottage were larger pots that contained mature plants. Here is where she focused her energy, doing her best to reroute her train of thought. She began clipping just the right amount of leaves and flowers from the exact plants she knew would help Anakin's strength return.

Sothora worked efficiently, but not at the sacrifice of precision. She made a batch of _piscidia erythrina, _a paste ground from several herbs that would help with clotting. For the pain, she already had a fresh jar of Meadowsweet salve, perfect for the injury Anakin sustained. She grabbed this, and the paste, and went back to the bed.

"Let me know if anything is too painful as I work" she told Anakin. With great care, she administered the paste, careful not to aggravate the wound. She kept an eye on Anakin's facial expressions, though he showed no sign of pain or discomfort. Next, she applied the salve to the raw edges of the wound, working around the paste in a fashion that would seal the herbs over the wound. With that, she bandaged him up.

Now, as she heated a pot of water to steep a mixture of Eukamint and Lycandis leaves_, _Sothora watched as Anakin closed his eyes and fell into a temporary slumber. The mixture was potent, and often induced a kind of numbing effect that could induce sleep.

Quietly so as not to disturb him, Sothora continued making the herbal tea. She steeped the Eukamint first, inhaling the strong scent as the oils opened up. Next, she added the Lycandis. Soon, the deep, earthy body of the mixture filled the space around her. And, as she suspected it might, she watched as the Jedi's eyes slowly opened in response. He inhaled deep, his bare chest rising from the bed as he took in the scent.

"How do you feel?" Sothora continued stirring the brew, dispersing more of the healing scent into the air.

"I feel..._less_, which is good" Anakin answered. "I think that's good, anyway?"

Sothora smiled and set her wooden spoon down. "Yes, your wound should be numb, for now." Walking over, she perched on the side of the bed and motioned to the wound. "Mind if I take a look?"

"Of course." He made motion to sit up, but Sothora halted him.

"Stay still."

Anakin obeyed, studying the woman closely as she peered at the bandaged wound. Her hands were deft and able, moving with the skill of a healer he'd not seen before in someone her age. Most healers he knew were well aged; old enough to have seen things and been places, devoting their life to studying lore and science before perfecting the trade.

The woman assisting him was no older than he was, it seemed.

Her tawny hair was pulled back in a loose bun, but pieces continued to fall into her face as she inspected his wounds. She pushed the hair back, chewed her lip, and lifted a finger.

"One moment. I think I know the problem."

Anakin watched as she moved briskly towards one of the dozens of plants she kept in the home. "There's….a problem?"

Her brown eyes seemed alarmed, as if she realized the error of her own words.

"No. No, of course not!" She pinched a small bud from the plant, crushed it between her fingers as she came back to the bed, then added it to whatever else was beneath the bandage on his stomach. "It just needs a little more of _this." _She gave him a quick smile.

She was tense. Anakin could sense it all around her. Unsure of him. Scared, perhaps. Whatever it was, it was making her be very, very careful with him. He reached out through the Force, trying to get a sense of why she would be scared, but the fresh sensation coming from his wound made him feel woozy.

"It's working, I see" Sothora remarked, seeing Anakin's eyelids slowly close. "Rest while you can. I'll wake you when my elixir has brewed."

Anakin barely heard her. He slipped back into a dreamless, peaceful sleep, unaware of anything other than the comfortable bed beneath him and the sweet aroma in the air around him.

* * *

When he awoke again, Anakin felt like his head had been cleared of a fog he never realized was there. His vision was clearer too, blinking as his sight adjusted to the dim light of the room. He tried to sit up again, but the woman was right there, gently pushing him back down.

"Not yet." Her voice was soothing and affectionate. "Here."

She placed a pillow behind his head, then handed him a mug of something warm. The steam rose to tickle his nose, and smelled of something sweet.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Almost sunset."

He felt a jolt of fear. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Just drink."

Again, he silently obeyed, and he was glad he did. He didn't realize how dry his mouth felt until the liquid touched his lips. Comfort spread through him as the warm drink traveled down to his stomach.

"Not too hot, I hope?" Sothora asked.

Anakin smiled. "Just right, in fact." He watched as the woman took a seat in a creaky wooden chair next to the bed. "Are you a healer?"

"So many questions" she teased. "Drink the entire mug, and then we'll talk. Deal?"

He smirked. "Deal."

Sothora watched the Jedi drink the liquid, eyeing him for any reaction to the mixture. She'd brewed it extra strong, assuming he could take it. She had been right; he drank it with no objections and with no reaction. Relief swept through her, knowing now that his wound would begin to heal from the inside as well as the outside.

When he finished, she took the emptied mug and held on to it, the stoneware still warm to the touch. "You're a Jedi."

The corner of Anakin's mouth barely ticked upward in amusement. "What gave it away?"

"The weapon. The ship. The garb." She nodded to the still-bloodied tunic draped over the edge of the bed frame. "I put the pieces together."

Reluctance washed over Anakin, and he directed his eyes away from Sothora and out the nearby window. He really hadn't planned on crashing, and he _really _hadn't planned on a pair of vulture droids following him out of Alderaan's atmosphere, but what he regretted most was having all of his unforeseen mishaps being placed upon this woman. She was innocent in this. The trouble that followed him after his meeting with Bail Organa was something he would do his best not to transfer to her.

"What did you say your name was?" he asked.

"Sothora…Or just Thora, if you'd like."

"Thora" he repeated. "That's very pretty."

He wasn't the best with complimenting women. It always sounded so much better in his head than when it left his mouth, but the humble smile she gave him was a good sign.

"Thank you" was all she said. She diverted her eyes away, bashfully pushing back the loose pieces of hair from her face.

Once more, Anakin felt her tension through the Force. It thrummed heavily, indicating the hesitance he had felt in her earlier. He wished, more than anything, that she wasn't so frightened of him.

"Thank you for helping me" he said, breaking the silence. "I really appreciate it. I promise I won't be in your way too long."

"You're not in my way." Sothora's hands worked the mug nervously. "It's not like I have many visitors."

"No?" Anakin very carefully pushed himself upright, so he could be level with her.

"I keep to myself mostly" Sothora admitted bashfully. "You're the first m-" She halted, quickly catching herself. "-_person _I've had here in a long while."

Anakin found this oddly interesting. "Why is that?"

"My work keeps me busy...plus, I like the peace of living out here. Though I do travel into town a few days a week, depending on how many requests for medicine I receive."

Visions of the bustling atmosphere of Coruscant came to Anakin's mind. All too often, he wished he could find a quiet spot for some peace. On Coruscant, it was nearly impossible. The more he thought about it, Anakin had never really known many moments of true stillness and peace. Sure, he meditated with Obi-Wan whenever time allowed, but it wasn't the same as the kind of peace Sothora had here. He searched his memory, trying to think of a moment he could call truly peaceful. Maybe back on Tatooine he'd had peace; whenever he worked on 3PO, he'd had a little bit of it.

"More elixir?" Thora asked him, bringing Anakin back to the present.

"Sure." He smiled, eyeing her as she headed for the kettle. She carried herself with a quiet gracefulness; her movement fluid and light. Aside from the messy hair and less than impressive dress, Anakin thought Thora could pass for a dignitary. He also thought she was pretty. _Very _pretty. She was petite but strong, which he noted on their walk back to her cottage. She'd supported his limp weight most of the way without a single protest. She was also obviously smart, given her abilities with the practice of healing. And yet here she was: alone, in a cozy cottage by herself, surrounded by endless forest.

"So what happened up there?" Thora asked, bringing him his refill. "To your ship, I mean."

Anakin didn't know how to answer that. If he told her the truth, then the operation he was sent to Alderaan for might be compromised, as well as her safety. If he lied, then he lied to someone who was unknowingly risking herself for his well-being. Both options were bad, so he opted for the truth. "I was sent here on on behalf of the Republic, to to join Senator Organa in a meeting with several other senators from various Core planets. My main duty was to ensure the safety of the senators while also representing the Jedi Council." He took a sip of the brew, trying to figure out how to word the next part of the tale without revealing too much. "Turns out, a Separatist spy was at the meeting. Next thing I know, I'm being chased by vulture droids. The rest of the story is lying on the forest floor in a heap of smoke and rubble."

Sothora nodded thoughtfully. "Well...you landed in the very best possible spot, if you ask me." She chanced another smile, a wider one this time, hoping he understood her meaning. By the looks of things, he did. The intensity in his gaze softened a little, and the strong lines of his jaw had eased.

"I won't argue that at all."

For a brief moment, they sat gazing into one another's eyes. Anakin felt a ripple through the Force as Sothora's energy changed. Before, it felt apprehensive and guarded, but now he could feel it all slipping away to reveal something affectionate. At least he was on the right track with her.

Sothora suddenly found it very warm inside the cottage again, despite the night hour. "You mentioned a droid?"

Anakin closed his eyes. "My R2 unit...yeah, about that." He leaned his head back against the pillow as though the mentioning of it exhausted him. "He was co-piloting when we went down, but was nowhere to be found once we crashed. I'm guessing he's gone off to find Senator Organa and tell him of the wreck..."

"...which means some very important people will soon be looking for you" Sothora finished. "That's no matter. I'll go back to the crash site tomorrow morning and wait, if that would help?"

"_No _\- you can't go back." Panic overtook Anakin's face as he sat up, immediately feeling pain searing through the left side of his abdomen. "Not without me, anyway" he groaned. "The Separatist spy may still be trying to find me...and the last thing I want is for you to get tangled up in this."

Sothora was already at his side, helping him. "Are you always this insistent?" she asked, placing a hand on the back of his neck and the other on his chest to guide him into a more comfortable position. The softness of his hair against her fingers was a distracting contrast to the solid muscles of his chest. It brought a rush of heat to her cheeks.

"I've been told I have a tendency to rush into things." He glanced up at her, eyes full of bravado. "I also have a tendency not to listen to such things." This caused Thora to chuckle, and Anakin thought it was the sweetest sound. He quietly congratulated himself on making her laugh.

Once he was propped against his pillows again, Sothora sat on the edge of the bed. She considered arguing with Anakin on his earlier point about not returning to the crash site, but he was right. Whoever it was that was after him may still be on the lookout. They knew his ship went down, but they would find no body at the crash site. For all they knew, he may be dead.

Sighing in resignation, Sothora returned her focus to the bandaged wound. "I'll stay here with you, as long as it takes until you're healed." She met his gaze again. "I won't return to the crash site. But how you're going to get out of here safely-"

Anakin couldn't help but grin. "Don't worry, I'll come up with a plan. I always do."

The hard line that had been Thora's mouth gradually eased. "We should get some sleep." She reached under the bed for a folded-up blanket. "Use this, if you feel chilled at all through the night."

"Where will you sleep?" Anakin took the blanket, feeling somewhat regretful for occupying Thora's bed.

She took a look around the small cottage, keenly aware that she wasn't exactly equipped for visitors. "The chair will do just fine." Anakin was about to protest, but Sothora stopped him. "It's _fine_, I promise." In a moment of tenderness, she placed a hand on Anakin's shoulder and gave him a little squeeze. "Of the two of us, I'd rather you have the better rest."

What Anakin felt on the other side of that moment was a depth of care he definitely wasn't used to. Sothora's aura was warm and comforting. Affection like this wasn't permitted within the Jedi Code, but Anakin craved it. In a galaxy that was raging on in an endless war with no end in sight, he rarely - if ever - came across anyone like Thora. He found that fact both disheartening and unfortunate.

These were the thoughts that swirled around inside Anakin's tired mind as he closed his eyes and tried not to focus on the negatives. Eventually, he found sleep.

* * *

After sunrise the following morning, Sothora made herself busy outside. One reason for this was that she'd left most of her chores the day before scattered to the wind after the discovery of Anakin. The second, and by far the most important reason, was so that she didn't prematurely wake him. He'd slept soundly through the night, despite how poorly she slept in the chair. It didn't matter much to her; again, Anakin needed the rest more than she did.

It was now a few hours past sunrise and already getting warm. Judging by the clouds gathering in the sky, rain would be on the way that afternoon. With this in mind, Sothora went about washing Anakin's tunic. She wasn't sure if she had enough of the right additive to help remove the blood stain, but she did her best anyway. At least he wouldn't be walking around with a massive dark splotch near his stomach, visible for all to see. His tunics were in shades of deep mahogany and browns...the perfect color, she realized, to disguise wounds. She wondered if this was purposeful.

With her back turned to the cottage, Sothora continued working on the tunic's stain when Anakin awoke. She never heard him as he appeared on her small patio, nor did she know how long he'd been there before he finally spoke.

"Thora?"

She nearly jumped out of her boots at the sound of his voice. "Anakin?!"

He stood on the patio, appearing like something out of an unfair dream. The new day's sun glinted off his light brown locks, revealing highlights she hadn't noticed before. He remained shirtless with his bandage still secure about his abdomen, but that wasn't what caught Sothora's attention first. In the sunlight, so much more of Anakin's build was noticeable now; the fine lines of his obliques, the veins tracing lines down his biceps, the strong collarbone framing his proud shoulders. His breeches hung loosely over his hips, dragging her eyes downward against her will.

It took everything in her not to swoon on sight.

"I'm sorry." His expression bent with concern. "I didn't mean to surprise you like that."

Thora stumbled when she stood up. _"_It's alright, really" she said, silently cursing herself for tripping. "I'm just...very glad you can stand now."

Anakin grinned; a flash of sunlight all on its own. "I'm impressed, honestly. A wound this size normally doesn't heal this quickly."

"Is it very painful?"

"Moreso than yesterday" he replied, poking carefully at the bandage. "Or maybe your meds just wore off."

Thora squeezed the tunic of its excess water and placed it over the banister of the patio. "I can take a look for you?"

"Absolutely." He gestured to his bare stomach, moving his hands behind him so Thora had plain view.

The view, of course, made her head spin. Even just the subtle movement of placing his arms at his back caused a succession of muscle movement that further distracted her. She knelt on one knee before him, eye level with the bandaged wound. For a just a fraction of a millisecond, Sothora allowed her eyes to travel beyond the bandage to the waistband of Anakin's breeches. They clung to his narrow hips loosely enough that she wondered if a casual breeze might be enough to release them completely.

_Thora, stop._

_The man is injured._

He was, but he was strong, and he was beautiful. There was no point in ignoring it. And there was no point in ignoring the sad truth of her own life: Sothora hadn't ever been with a man. Not in the intimate sense, anyway. Not totally. Partially, yes. She'd had plenty of suitors, of course, but none of them could ever hold up their end of the bargain (as her mother used to phrase it). And now, with her line of work, she never had the time to find a suitable partner. None of this really bothered her. She enjoyed her life all the same with or without someone at her side.

But _Anakin? _He wasn't like _anyone _she knew on Alderaan.

Sothora removed the edges of the bandage carefully.

He wasn't like anyone she'd ever _seen _before.

With precise, quick movements, she removed the bandage in one go, exposing the remains of the salve and paste mixture she applied the day before. The wound itself had begun to heal, but remained a dark, ghastly shade of red. The bleeding had stopped, but the irregular shape of the wound itself would take some time before it stopped looking so gruesome. But, all in all, the healing process had begun, _and _Anakin was stronger today than yesterday. All tiny successes on the road to healing.

"Looks good, right?" A glint of hope sparkled in the blue of his eyes.

"Looks _very _good." She bent to peer closely at one of the more jagged edges of the wound and frowned. "However, this spot will require another bit of paste." She met Anakin's gaze as she stood. "I say you have one more day here under my care before I let you go."

A laugh rumbled from Anakin's chest. "Let me go, huh? I see how it is." His smile broadened, wrinkling the corners of his eyes and transforming his entire face. With his scarred eye, he gave her a playful wink.

Whether it was her thoughts earlier that made her do it, or maybe it was the wink itself, Sothora lifted her fingers to the scar. "How did you get this?" She gently grazed the pads of her fingers over the angry line, amazed at the closeness to his eye.

Anakin felt his heartbeat quicken at her touch. "Long story..." he uttered, his eyes never leaving hers. The Force energy he felt at that moment was like the heat from a laser blast. Electrifying, radiating outwards in every direction, setting his skin alive in the best possible way.

"I'd love to hear sometime" Thora told him. She brought her hand away, but not before she let her fingers barely brush against his lips. "I'd like to learn more about you, if you're willing to share."

And now it was Anakin who was finding it hard to focus.

"Come inside" Thora said with a small wave. "I'll brew some tea, I'll get you a new bandage, and we'll talk."

And that's exactly what the pair did...for almost the entire day. The rain Sothora predicted had come, and it provided the perfect backdrop to the afternoon spent together. Anakin had forgotten about finding R2-D2, figuring out a way back to Coruscant, or meeting up with Senator Organa to at least let him know he was okay. It wasn't every day that someone asked Anakin about his life, his story, or anything about himself, so he didn't want to ruin the chance he had with Thora.

Much to his surprise, Thora seemed interested in what he had to say. The story about his scar, his last mission on Christophsis, the training he went through as a Padawan, the Jedi way of life...all of it. She sat attentively, listening with great intrigue as Anakin described everything in the best detail he could. He must have been doing a fine job, as she smiled throughout his tales, the green in the hazel of her eyes beaming brightly.

"It must be so thrilling" she commented, idly stirring her tea. "You never know where you might be sent, or you'll be able to help next, or what challenges you'll face."

"You sound like my Master" Anakin quipped.

"The man you mentioned when I found you?" Sothora questioned. "Obi-Wan?"

"That is him, yes."

"Aren't you worried that he'll be looking for you, or wondering if you're still alive?"

Anakin raised the mug to his lip, his eyes centering on Thora's. "He'll be alright."

"Oh, Anakin..."

He smirked. "You'll be happy to know I sent him a coded transmission from my wrist unit this morning."

Anakin nodded towards the vambraces near Thora's bed. Not until he mentioned something did Thora even notice there was a communication device attached to one of them. Her lack of knowledge for the Jedi armor, and the lifestyle, was embarrassingly obvious. And yet, no matter how many questions she asked of Anakin, he was always so happy to answer. He was obviously very proud of his duty as a Knight of the Republic, and Sothora found that honorable.

"I had to do a little rewiring work to get it to work again" he mentioned sheepishly. "I borrowed one of your knives to do it. Hope you don't mind."

Thora bit back a giggle. "Of course I don't! What's mine is yours while you're here."

Outside, the rain pounded harder against the windows. What was left of the day's light was beginning to fade and it wasn't even dinnertime yet. Both Anakin and Sothora turned their gazes toward the window, looking beyond the streaks of water to the dark evergreen shades of the looming forest.

"Do you ever feel lonely?" Anakin asked. His eyes moved from the window back to her. "Living out here, I mean. Isn't it lonely?"

Sothora considered her answer before speaking. "Not really. It's easier if I don't think about it, of course. But mostly, it doesn't bother me."

"So you ignore the feeling when it comes up?"

She cocked her head. "Do you?"

"I don't feel lonely" he lied.

"Everyone feels lonely, Anakin."

"A Jedi shouldn't."

"That doesn't mean a Jedi doesn't feel it anyway." She studied him as he kept his attention focused on the liquid within his mug. "And that also doesn't make it 'bad' if you do."

A moment passed before Anakin lifted his gaze. The spirited look in his eyes had been replaced by something much more haunted. So much so, that it seemed he had aged ten years. "Everything you say makes sense to me" he told her. "I _know _it does. But what I know to be true and what I am told to believe are very different things." He shook his head. "The longer this war wages on, the more confused I become."

A question rose to Sothora's lips, and for a moment, she decided against asking it. But the pain Anakin was feeling, the pain she could read in the lines of his face, made her chance asking it anyway. "The war makes you lonely, doesn't it?"

A second's hesitation passed, then Anakin nodded.

"But you were lonely long before the war."

He closed his eyes, and the nightmare of his memories began.

_Flashes of his mother. Bloodied beyond recognition and her body broken. Despair.  
__Flashes of the Sand People. Screaming. Intense heat. Anger.  
__Flashes of Master Qui-Gon's pyre. Agony.  
__Flashes of his training. Secrets spoken about him. Dirty looks. Taunting remarks. Anger.  
__So much confusion and anger._

Anakin pushed back from the table. "I need some air."

"No, wait!" Sothora stood and rounded the table, blocking Anakin from escaping. "This is what I'm talking about." Fear traveled like bile from her stomach all the way up to her throat. "Don't avoid. Just sit with it. Think about it-"

"-I don't _WANT _to think about it!_" _he shouted.

The volume of his voice startled the both of them, and for a second, neither moved. The heat that had taken over Anakin's entire body subsided and his vision cleared. To his horror, what he saw before him was one very shaken woman who didn't deserve to look as scared as she did.

"Thora, I'm sorry..." He reached out to her, but she stepped back.

"It's okay" she whispered.

"It's not." Anakin stepped towards her. "I frightened you."

Thora squared herself to him and held her ground, staring up at him with as much understanding as she could. "I should be the one apologizing. I pushed you to do something you weren't comfortable doing."

"It seems I could use some pushing" he remarked. His thoughts turned to Obi-Wan, who had been on him lately about this. About how his 'outbursts were becoming more frequent' and how it was preventing opportunities with the Jedi Council from opening up to him. Maybe his Master was right.

Unsure of what to say or do, Thora looked away. Out of habit, her eyes lowered to Anakin's midsection - only to find that his bandage had a bloom of fresh blood seeping from the cloth. "Your wound!"

Anakin looked down, but Thora was already leading him towards the bed. He laid down, watching her as she quickly gathered her tools and bandage clothes to repair whatever damage he'd done during his outburst.

"I can fix this..." she uttered to herself, kneeling next to the bed. "It's just a small rupture." She was about to tear a strip of bandage cloth with her teeth when Anakin's hand clutched hers, stopping her.

"Slow down. I'm fine. Really."

To Sothora's surprise, the haunted look dissipated from Anakin's stare, replaced once more by the familiar tenderness she recognized.

He gave her a tiny smile. "Thank you for all of this." He tipped his chin towards the cottage. "For helping me. For healing me. And...for pushing me."

Sothora straightened her back. "You're welcome." She turned her attention to Anakin's wound once more. "Promise me one thing, though."

"Anything" he replied eagerly.

"That you'll try harder when you leave here. You know, to push yourself." She didn't dare look at him, but kept her eyes focused on the bandage cloths. "Challenge yourself to fight those demons. Whether it's loneliness or something else. Everyone has something they've got to work on. Everyone has demons. It's in how we handle them that defines us." Finally, she pulled her eyes from the wound. "Deal?"

With their gazes locked in shared understanding, Anakin managed a half-smile. "Deal."

Silence hung in the room following their agreement. Only the pattering of rain on the cottage roof could be heard. Anakin remained lying still as Sothora reinforced his bandage, applying one more layer of salve for good measure. Upon finishing, she realized that Anakin had fallen asleep. His head was slightly turned on the pillow, facing the window near the bed. What little light was left of the fading day cast a shadow across Anakin's face, highlighting the strong features of his face.

Sothora felt a wave of sadness clutch her stomach. Anakin had so much that she did not: an exciting life, skill beyond measure with his body and within his gift of the Force, and a host of people around him who admired him. And yet, he struggled with loneliness and a fear of his own emotions. She wished there was a plant she grew, or a flower, or some medicinal mixture that could cure him of his hurts...but these were afflictions a recipe of herbs wouldn't be able fix.

As soundlessly as she could, Sothora set her tools down and padded to the opposite side of the bed. Anakin's large frame didn't leave much room for her on the bed, but she didn't care. She slipped in beside him with nary a rustle, doing her best not to wake him.

"I'm sorry for all your hurts I can't fix" she whispered, taking in the sight of him. She kissed his cheek, her lips a whisper across his skin. "Goodnight, Jedi."

With that, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning was bright and clear. The rain had dissipated to reveal another lush, green, vibrant day on Alderaan.

Sothora awoke to the chittering of birds, stretching into a lengthy yawn. She forgot she'd taken up a space next to Anakin in bed; after the horrible night's rest she had the previous night in her chair, she'd slept as soundly as ever.

When she rolled over, the air was caught in her chest.

Anakin was gone.

She sat up abruptly, looking around the cottage.

His utility belt was gone. His boots. His tunic. His vambraces.

Everything was gone.

Shakily, Sothora stood, feeling suddenly cold and exposed and alone. Hugging herself, she padded over to the table where a note sat folded up near one of her potted plants. She didn't need to look to know who wrote it.

A sinking, ugly feeling hung heavy in her stomach. She inhaled, steadied herself, and unfolded the note.

_Thora,_

_I'm not good with words, or as good as I'd like to be anyway, but I know there isn't anything I could ever say to adequately thank you for your care, your companionship, and most of all...for your trust. I know I don't deserve it. Perhaps none of us do. You're better than most I come across in this galaxy, and I won't forget it._

_I'll work on everything we talked about. Maybe the next time we meet, I'll be a different person. A better one._

_May the Force be with You._

_Anakin Skywalker_

"_Skywalker_" Sothora repeated, tears forming in her eyes. "I never even bothered to ask his last name." She held the note to her heart and exhaled. "A perfect last name" she said with a smile.

Sothora Filiq remained on Alderaan for the rest of her short life. She continued to master the art of healing, making rounds to various settlements and outposts to help the sick whenever she could. She kept Anakin's note in her cottage, and would often glance at it whenever she felt lonely.

* * *

Her and Skywalker would not meet again.

Sothora died in 0 BBY when Alderaan was decimated by the Death Star.

Anakin Skywalker, now Darth Vader, stood watching.

* * *

/End


End file.
